Swords: 06 - The Third Book of Lost Swords - Stonecutter's Story Read Free

Kasimir supposed) stories, Wen Chang was credited with the ability to see into the secret hearts of men and women. It was said that he knew, as soon as he laid eyes on any group of people, which of them were innocent and which were guilty. It was even alleged—Kasimir had heard this variation once—that the Magistrate could tell, just by staring at the thief, where stolen treasure had been hidden. But Kasimir had never heard that the famed Wen Chang was wont to travel as far as this from his usual base of operations.
           When Kasimir was still a score of strides from the tent’s doorway, the flap opened fully and a tall, imposing man emerged from the dim interior. He was dressed for desert traveling in a gray robe, almost plain enough to be that of a pilgrim.
           If this was indeed Wen Chang, he was a younger-looking man than Kasimir had expected, with black hair and a proud narrow mustache still quite innocent of gray; but there was that in his bearing that convinced Kasimir he was indeed confronting the famed Magistrate. From his elevation upon the little knoll the tall man squinted through narrowed eyes in Kasimir’s direction; then he ignored the approaching youth and went unhurriedly to the edge of the pool, where he knelt down and with a silver cup scooped up a drink.
           Meanwhile Kasimir had come to a stop about ten strides away, where he stood waiting in an attitude of respect.
           Presently the tall man rinsed his cup, hurling water from it in a little silver spray, and rose unhurriedly to his full height. His eyes, turned again on Kasimir, were remarkably black. It seemed to the young man that those eyes glittered whenever they were not squinted almost shut.
           Kasimir cleared his throat. “Have I the honor of addressing the Magistrate Wen Chang?”
           “It is my name. And that was formerly my office.” The voice was precise, and spoke the common tongue with a slight accent of a kind Kasimir had seldom heard before. “Whether you are honored by the mere fact of talking to me is something you must decide for yourself.”
           “Honored sir, I am honored. And I really think that the kindly fates have sent you here. Or they have sent me here to meet you. There is a matter in which your help is greatly needed.”
           “So?” The tall man eyed the youth intently for a moment. Then he said: “I believe this grassy bank provides a finer seat than any of the pillows in my pavilion. And out here the view is finer too. Let us make ourselves comfortable and I will hear your story. Mind you, I promise nothing more than a hearing.”
           “Of course, sir, of course.” Kasimir let the older man choose a spot to sit down first, then cast himself down on the grass nearby. “Let me think—where to begin? Of course, forgive me, my name is Kasimir.”
           “And you are on your way to Eylau, to seek employment through the White Temple there.”
           “Yes, I—” Kasimir forgot his hope of making a good impression so far as to let his jaw drop open. “How could you possibly know that?”
           The other made a gesture of dismissal. “My dear young man, I did not know it, but the probabilities were with me. The size and arrangement of the pouches you wear at your belt—the cloth container for drugs, the lizard-skin for items thought to have some potency in magic—these identify you as a physician, or at least as one who has some pretensions of skill in the healing arts. Certain other details of your appearance indicate that you have already been more than a few days in the desert—therefore you are now traveling toward the city, which is only two days’ march from here, and not away from it. And once an itinerant physician has arrived in Eylau, where would he most likely go, but to the White Temple of Ardneh, a clearinghouse for jobs in his profession?”
           “Ah. Well, of course,